


Topsy Turvy

by Nestri



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Bucky Barnes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Possessive Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestri/pseuds/Nestri
Summary: Steve is the quintessential alpha, the bold and brave Captain America. He has no business fantasizing about his civilian, omega, boyfriend mounting him. That doesn't stop him from wanting.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 252





	Topsy Turvy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Please mind the tags, and also there is a mildly graphic image in the middle of this story lol

More than half asleep, Steve can feel the soft mattress underneath him, the hum of the refrigerator down the hall, and the solid weight of a thick comforter draped over his shoulders. A warm body pushes into his space, and small snores puff into his ear. 

His hips are cradled by a thigh thrown over his lower back, and along the curve of his behind, he feels early morning hardness, insistent and solid. 

_Hmm._ His body hums. 

When Steve rises to full wakefulness, the fog of sleep leaves him quickly and he takes but a moment to give a mental ‘all clear’ after assessing his current location. The sun peeks through the minor slits in the window blinds, casting a gentle light on the omega beside him. 

Bucky rests on his side, profile of his face hidden within the pillow. His face is slack in sleep, eyes moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids. Steve watches quietly, and inhales the plum scent emanating from the omega. Another sniffle reveals a faint scent of arousal, the smell of starched fresh linen. 

Steve blushes slightly, and drags himself out of bed, and realizes with satisfaction that his scent clings to the sheets. He quietly makes his way into the bathroom, having had plenty of practice with remaining undetected, and easily gets dressed for the day without disturbing Bucky. 

He walks to the open space of the living room, a carpeted expanse meeting the tiled kitchen floor, a freestanding counter between them. He’s trekking across the carpet, to the front door where his shield rests, when it occurs to him. For once, in the four times he’s been able to have a ‘stay over’, there’s no mission. No briefing. No reason to hurry off. 

With lack of anything to do, he begins to peruse the apartment. A baby grand piano protrudes from a corner in the living room, an inheritance from Bucky’s late parents. He resists the urge to tap on the keys, and doesn’t touch the T.V. either, not completely sure how to turn it on anyway, since there’s no buttons. A large bookcase bursts at the seams, books stacked in front of the others that line the shelves. He imagines pulling on the spine of one, the subsequent cascade of the collection, and drops his hands as if his thoughts would manifest into reality. 

He pads over to the kitchen where bananas, a loaf of bread, and a box of cereal sit out on the counters. That doesn’t even include the abundance of foods in Bucky’s cabinets and refrigerator. The first time he was allowed over, he assumed Bucky must be rich. Bucky had whole heartedly corrected him, but the presence of all the food still catches him off guard. Steve looks away, focusing on the counter space bridging the living room and kitchen. 

A few pieces of mail spread across the surface, along with Bucky’s keys and wallet. He zeroes in on a glossy magazine. The cover is a picture of a huge space shuttle, and _NATGEO_ stretches across the top in large print. Curious, he flips through and encounters high quality photos of various animals. When he reaches the section about the space shuttle, there are little square pieces of paper stuck in random spots on the pages. Each square has a note in Bucky’s handwriting. 

Steve snatches his hand away before he can read them, burned by his own intrusiveness. He closes the magazine carefully, sits on the couch, and perches there, lost.

Bucky saves him a half hour later, shuffling down the hall with a yawn. He’s dressed for the day in slim fit jeans and a blue button down, short hair artfully coiffed across his head.

The omega has a lazy smile curling his lips as he approaches the couch, “You can stay in bed when you come over,” and adds with a leer, “Trust me when I say I wouldn’t mind.”

Steve files that away, stuck on _when_ they have the next stay over, not _if_ , and too much time passes when he realizes he probably should say something. Before he can, Bucky swings a leg over his lap to straddle him. In the close proximity, the starchy smell kicks up into his nose. Steve inhales, momentarily distracted by the scent. 

“Is brunch still a thing?” Bucky says. Steve’s eyes drift open, not noticing when he shut them. Bucky’s eyes are bright with mischievousness. 

“Free until two,” he confirms. 

Bucky smirks, “Good,” and rests his arms atop Steve’s shoulders, leaning forward to brush his lips against Steve’s teasingly. Steve nips at them, enjoying the softness of them between his teeth. Bucky responds aggressively, licking into Steve’s with a sudden sense of urgency. 

Steve reaches down and hooks his fingers through each belt loop on Bucky’s jeans, bringing their hips closer. His cock twitches, eager to feel more of the rough fabric as it strains within his cotton sweatpants. Bucky presses down on his lap languidly, peeling his mouth off of Steve’s only to catch his breath, before diving back in. 

Steve unhooks a finger, hand straying to the button on Bucky’s jeans. He doesn’t want to assume, because what they’re doing now is more than enough for him. His pause is long enough for Bucky to extricate himself from their embrace. 

_Too pushy_ , his inner voice snaps. 

His cock weeps pre-cum as it aches from the loss, and he tilts his head up. Bucky grins at him with pink and swollen lips. His eyebrow rises as he flips open his own fly, rolling his pants down off his hips. He’s not wearing any underwear, and his cock juts out from trimmed deep brown curls. Bucky steps out of his jeans, only breaking eye contact when he turns around. He bends over obscenely, and starts poking through his jean pockets. 

Steve enjoys the view of Bucky’s pert ass, glistening wet from slick. The slightly parted cheeks teases a peek of his hole, and the curl is red swollen with arousal, and drenched. Bucky straightens with a condom in his hand, and steps back over to the couch. He settles between Steve’s thighs, back against the alpha’s chest. 

Steve snakes an arm around his midsection to keep him balanced, and Bucky rips open the condom packet. He writhes, moaning and panting as he smears slick with the press of his ass on Steve’s hardness. 

Steve reaches down and pulls himself out of the confines of the pants. Bucky immediately reaches behind himself, easing the condom down Steve’s length. 

Steve grunts as he lays a hand over Bucky’s, both rolling the condom down to the base. He leans forward to nuzzle against the left side of Bucky’s neck, a fiery sensation in the pit of his stomach at the scent of the omega’s arousal. The glands, where the throat and shoulders meet, have swelled to almost twice their size. Bucky whines when Steve licks at the raised skin. He lathers the scent glands with his tongue, sealing his mouth around them, sucking and nibbling the raised skin gently. Bucky gasps. 

“It would’ve been so easy for you to fuck into me,” Bucky says breathlessly as he arches into the attention, “I was so ready and wet, would have opened for you nicely.”

“Hnng,” Steve responds intelligently, removing his mouth from Bucky’s neck. 

“I want it, come on,” Bucky pants, rubbing his ass along Steve’s bobbing cock. Steve reaches down to stroke himself, then gently pushes against the Bucky’s lower back. 

Bucky leans up slightly, and Steve lines up the tip of his cock in the resulting space. He brushes the head against the entrance, and the ring of muscle shudders at the attention. 

“Come on,” Bucky pants again. Steve doesn’t say _Your wish is my command_ , because he’s been teased about that type of dirty talk before. For all that Bucky is wet, he’s still a bit tight as Steve breeches his entrance. He eases in slowly, and only gets the head in when Bucky abruptly pushes his ass down until Steve’s cock is fully seated inside him. They both groan. 

“Fuck. You feel so good. Your large cock splitting me open,” Bucky says, and continues to mutter a litany of filthy approval. 

Steve attempts to pump his hips upward but the angle doesn’t allow for much movement on his part. Bucky seems well aware, bracing himself on Steve’s thighs to move up and down on his cock. 

Certain Bucky’s got his balance, Steve snakes his hands up his shirt, searching with clumsy fingers for his nipples. They firm when he brushes against them, and he works the nubs with his thumb and forefinger. Bucky inhales sharply, pushing his chest forward into the touch. 

He slips out twice, but he’s quickly engulfed by Bucky's warm hole again. On the third time, Bucky stands with a huff, and Steve’s cock bobs sadly at the loss of the tight heat. Bucky straddles him, facing him this time, and bares down to take Steve in all at once. Steve immediately kisses him, not realizing he had missed that bit of intimacy until he had it again. 

Bucky moans into his mouth, pitch changing until he’s purring. The trilling vibrates Steve’s nerve endings, and he responds with his own rumbling, guttural against dulcet. 

His hands find their place on Bucky’s thighs again. Bucky unlocks their mouths, panting into Steve’s ear as he rocks his hips. 

“Take what you want, Buck,” Steve grunts. And Bucky does. He adjusts himself minutely, and then he’s riding Steve hard. He uses his thighs to bounce, driving his ass down before he quickly pushes back up, almost to the point that Steve may slip out again. Bucky doesn’t allow it, swallowing the cock again with his quivering hole. 

Steve’s balls draw up, and he firmly cradles Bucky’s bouncing ass with his hands. One more rock of his hips, and Steve spills into the condom.

Bucky trembles above him, and doesn’t stop riding the pulsating cock until he’s coming a few moments later. Thick cum stripes the alpha’s stomach, as Bucky rests his head against Steve’s shoulder. His hole spasms as he comes from his entrance, choking Steve’s length as hot slick floods out. They both settle, catching their breath. 

Bucky straightens with a grin, “Well good morning.”

“Good Morning,” Steve says with a laugh, dick softening. 

They clean themselves up, and he changes into the clothes he wore yesterday. His clothes are a bit too stained with slick and cum for him to wear in public. Bucky smirks when Steve folds the wet pants into his duffle bag, looking completely unrepentant. 

***

The café they walk into is nestled among other eateries and stores on the block, and by the dotted “O” etched into the sign, it’s _omega owned_. 

Once he knew how to look for it, he realized a lot of omegas own property. The shift is a welcome one for him, and he’s grateful to witness the change but he keeps these thoughts to himself. His shocked regard over what has changed over the decades generally upsets other people. 

He really stuck his foot in it the first time he met Tony Stark. Steve assumed, with all that vast amount of wealth and power, that Stark was an alpha. After the initial greetings, it only took one sniff for Steve to realize the billionaire was an omega. Steve had asked if the owner of Stark Industries, who surely couldn’t be the omega in front of him, would be joining them.

Stark tore into him for good reason, and he hasn’t been the only one. Hawkeye, the other omega in the Avengers, set him straight in one memorable conversation that Steve’s too embarrassed to think about. 

“Does this work?” Bucky says by his elbow.

Steve jolts from his thoughts, and nods. The café is small and cozy, and smells of roasted coffee. Various art pieces dot the blue wall that Steve takes a moment to appreciate. They’re bold and abstract, hanging above each booth on either side of the wall. There’s only one other couple, at one of the tables in the middle of the café, and they don’t look up when Steve and Bucky walk in. 

Steve picks a table tucked away in the corner, and sits on the side with the greatest vantage point to the rest of the café. Bucky slides in on the other side, plucking two menus from the metal clip resting on the table. He hands one to Steve, and they both look over the selections in a companionable silence. 

Steve zeroes in on the prices, mouth going dry. Everything is expensive, the small fruit cup is _four dollars_. He reads over the menu, once, twice, side eyeing Bucky. 

“I’ll get something you like,” Bucky says, looking up with a grin, “Remember it’s my turn to pay.” 

Steve bites his tongue, desperately swallowing his protest, and watches Bucky shuffle out of the booth to make his way toward the register. He’s friendly with the cashier, bordering on flirty, eyes crinkling as he makes her laugh. Steve envies the easy way Bucky can talk with strangers. He always finds himself tongue tied, with alphas and omegas alike, in the simplest of topics. 

Bucky leans on the counter, and waits for their order. His eyes pin Steve to the chair, and he tosses over a wink, quick and saucy. Steve colors, and focuses his eyes on the artwork above their booth. His gaze shifts as Bucky approaches the table, and the mellow plum of his scent relaxes Steve. 

Bucky clutches a serving tray in his hands, tight to his chest, snickering quietly to himself. Steve smiles too, the humor is infectious even if he has no idea what’s funny. Bucky places three of the four sandwiches in front of Steve, and a mug of coffee. 

Steve nods in thanks, polite in the face of Bucky’s giggles. The omega sits down with his own sandwich and latte.

“Look,” he says, pointing to the receipt on the tray. Steve’s eyes immediately dart to the total cost, flinching at the sum. Bucky taps the large number printed at the top. **69** , the receipt reads. Steve smiles at him, not getting the joke. Bucky laughter peters off. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

Steve shakes his head, and begins to eat. Bucky looks at him aghast. He quickly taps on his phone, and starts snickering again. 

“This is 69,” Bucky says, and holds up his phone. Steve chokes on his sandwich, sputtering before he collects himself. 

“Bucky! We’re in public,” he hisses. 

His concern gets waved away, “No one’s gonna notice.”

“Childish,” Steve huffs good-naturedly, digging back into his sandwiches. 

“Respect your elders,” Bucky wags a finger. Steve almost chokes.

He doesn’t mind the jokes people toss his way; he definitely feels like the ancient grandpa the team calls him, but at times he just feels so young. All things considered, Bucky _is_ older than him, only by a year or two, but those simple words mean a lot to him. 

Steve forces himself out of the cloak of melancholy, mind wandering to the pornographic picture Bucky just shared. He supposes he can see the appeal, the couple definitely looked like they were enjoying themselves. 

Bucky looked like he was enjoying himself this morning. Steve hadn’t done much of anything, yet Bucky had found pleasure nonetheless. 

Curious, he ventures, “This morning…”

Bucky stops nibbling on his sandwich, smirking.

“Fishing for compliments, Rogers?” 

Steve ducks his head, and takes the out. Bucky’s face softens.

“I like being with you,” Bucky reassures, grasping Steve’s free hand in his. 

Without the effective suppressants of the 21st century, his happy, and proud, pheromones would have clouded up the entire café. A scent of joy clings to him anyway, pleased to have met his omega’s approval. He brushes a thumb over the small lettering on Bucky’s wrist. _BB_. each B symbolizing the bond between Bucky and his sister. Steve knows that she attends school on the west coast, and that she’s an alpha, but not much else, and he hopes to meet her one day. 

“How are her classes going?” He asks. 

Bucky lights up, unintentionally bragging about his genius baby sister and her accomplishments in college. Before long, Bucky shifts into funny anecdotes, recalling the time he was teaching her how to drive and she jumped a curve, busting open the front tire.

The conversation moves on to other topics, and before Steve knows it, a couple hours have passed. He glances at his watch and sighs.

“Time to go save the world?”

“Hardly,” Steve huffs, ignoring how his chest clenches. 

When they're back inside Bucky’s apartment, Steve shoulders his shield, “Four days, radio silence.” 

Bucky nods, eyebrows pinched in worry. Steve kisses his forehead, willing the tension to dissipate under the brush of his lips. He tries to discreetly rub his scent into the embrace, but when they break away, Bucky smirks at him. He bares his neck for Steve to nuzzle into and Steve takes what he’s offered, face flaming. 

He backs away after a moment, sheepish. 

“Try not to get hit by a truck this time,” Bucky says, arching an eyebrow in playful sternness. 

Steve grins. 

“No promises.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his face is soft. Steve hovers. 

“I’ll be here when you get back. Go,” Bucky says fondly. 

With one last look, Steve does. 

***

The mission is a simple one, but it takes every hour of those four days. He has a few scrapes and bruises, but he’s mostly just covered in soot, and the exhilaration from protecting others. As requested, he was not run over by a truck. He’s in good spirits as he enters the alpha locker room at SHIELD headquarters. 

Natasha straddles a bench near the showers, ringing her hair dry with a towel. She’s in a bra and boxers, but nothing else. Her scent is muted, both by suppressants and steam from her recent shower, but he can smell faint wisps of the same satisfaction he feels. He wonders if she’s like him, enjoying the primal feeling of a successful hunt.

Her expression is indiscernible as she glances over to him. Steve nods at her, and receives a small tilt of her head in response. He begins to undress, feeling her eyes on him as he pulls off every layer of his suit. He’s not sure if she means anything by it, because it’s no secret that Natasha goes for other alphas. 

Steve can’t deny she’s attractive, and could pass as an omega some days, but he would never be interested in another alpha. He chooses a shower stall near her, to emphasize he’s not put off or judging, and cuts on the water. He steps under the spray, marveling at how quickly the water runs hot. He turns it slightly, into a cooler temperature for his already heated skin, and washes quickly.

“Running home to someone special?” Natasha says, standing up to pull her jeans on. 

“No,” Steve says, ducking his head under the cascading water to avoid her penetrating gaze. 

“I think Barnes would have something to say about that.” 

Steve’s eyes snap open, water blinding him as turns to her in a panic. He’s always been careful to, reluctantly, wash off Bucky’s scent before each mission. Even when he’s spent a considerable amount of time with Bucky, he doesn’t see Natasha often enough for her to notice his absences from base. 

He blinks away the blurriness of the water, and looks at the playful smirk on her face. 

“You really think you could hide your fling from me?” 

Steve’s jaw juts out in offence, “Bucky is not a… fling.”

She arches an eyebrow, “So, it’s serious then?” 

Steve pauses, not really sure himself. They see each other often enough, but he’s only had his fourth ‘stay over’ with Bucky, and they’ve never spent his heats together. Bucky had rejected the hairpin Steve found for their courting. Bucky had not outright refused the accessory, but he’d never worn it, and his hair is too stylized for it to fit properly. Steve didn’t understand why, until Bucky discovered the reason for his hang dog expression every time he looked at his hair, and explained that courting accessories weren’t worn anymore. He’s come to know romantic customs are much more complicated in this century. 

“I hope so,” Steve says finally, as he dries off and begins to get dressed. 

“I can see why. He’s pretty.”

His eyes snap to her, a glare hardening his face. A warning growl rumbles low in his throat. 

_Mine._ His hindbrain insists, before the civilized part of him catches up.

His eyes widen, and he tenses. If she finds offense, wants to fight him for his behavior, he wouldn’t be surprised. He’s seen it happen in his youth, a pair of angry alphas squaring off because another looks at their omega sideways. 

Steve reaches for his shirt and yanks it on, hoping to convey with the brief sightlessness that he isn’t trying to instigate. When the shirt passes over his head, he looks at her, holding his breath. 

Natasha's eyes dance with mirth, unaffected. 

“I wouldn't do that around him. It’s not like that these days.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, muscles releasing, “Don’t I know it.” 

Without meaning to, he gives her a lingering glance. A lot _has_ changed. Natasha doesn’t need to hide who she is, and he’s glad for that.

“Go on. Ask,” she says. Steve startles.

“It’s none of my business,” he says.

“You’re right. It isn’t.” 

Steve busies himself with folding up his towel. He can see Natasha roll her eyes out of his peripheral. 

“Come on Rogers, I know you’re curious,” her voice is silky, deceptively innocent. He thinks back to four days ago, when Bucky had enjoyed himself. Is that how it would be with two alphas?

“Do you think I’d like it?” Steve blurts out. 

Natasha blinks at him, one of the rare moments she’s caught off guard. She regains her composure in a matter of seconds. 

“Depends on what ‘it’ is,” Natasha says. Steve pauses. He certainly doesn’t mean being with another alpha, but how it would be, being in the role of an omega. He gapes at her, floundering on how to ask without getting punched. 

Natasha cuts through his panic.

She shrugs, “If you think it’s worth it, give it a shot.”

Steve watches her go, head spinning. He doesn’t bring it up with Bucky, because he doesn’t want to bring it up with himself. 

Time passes, and they spend time together, and sometimes mate, when their schedules align. They’re both busy with the lives they have outside of each other; Steve’s duty to serve and protect, and Bucky’s commitment to his work and social life. 

The thought crops up randomly, when they're walking through woods. Leaves crunch under every step, and birds trill from aged tree branches. Steve doesn’t smell another person for miles, and fully appreciates the calm peace of their surroundings.

Bucky walks beside him, in a comfortable silence, as their scents mingle lazily. Steve’s mind starts to drift, and he’s ashamed of himself for thinking about the times they’ve shared in bed. Bucky means much more to him than a _fling_ , as Natasha had called it. But she also, in her own way, encouraged him to explore this part of himself. 

Or maybe he’s looking for excuses to explain the words climbing out of his mouth. 

“Did you want to swap sometime?” 

Bucky squints at him, and Steve swallows. There’s no taking it back now. He breathes out in relief when Bucky grins at him wickedly. He steps backward, and crosses behind Steve to the other side of the path. Steve watches him in confusion. 

“I see how it is. Wanted a chance in the shade?” Bucky snickers. 

“No, that’s not-”

Bucky eyeballs him. Steve glances around. Based on what he’s seen since he woke up, it’s entirely plausible that someone could have teleported next to them in the last few moments. Finding no one near, he clears his throat. 

“In _bed_ ,” he says, boldly obscene. Bucky smiles at him, giving a small shrug. 

“Sure, sounds like fun,” he says, gripping Steve’s wrist. Steve reels at the easy agreement. He breathes out once, a smile of his own blossoming before he feels a tug on his wrist. Only then he notices Bucky’s efforts in pulling him down the path back the way they came. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Bucky says.

“ _Now?”_

“No time like the present. Carpe Diem and all that. Besides, I’m feeling impulsive,” Bucky renews his efforts, gripping Steve’s wrist tightly. Steve’s heart rate speeds up, adrenaline and exhilaration surging at the spontaneity. 

He doesn’t have many opportunities to deeply think about it. Bucky keeps up a steady chatter as they travel through the forest, and before long they’ve made it to the parking lot. His motorcycle sits right where they left it, a sole helmet strapped to the tail end. 

Steve sits on the bike, and waits for Bucky to put on the helmet. His body is a warm and comforting weight as he slides behind Steve. Once Bucky clings to his midsection, Steve flips up the kickstand with his foot, and speeds away. 

***

The sheets are rucked up, further disturbed when they fall onto the bed. Without much warning, Steve is shoved onto his belly and Bucky slinks up his back. His sweet scent mingles with the smells of nature, and the musk of exertion. 

Steve breathes it in, eyes fluttering closed. He flinches in surprise when he feels a puff of air against his ear. Bucky rasps out an approximation of a growl, a throaty purr. 

Bucky repeats the noise, and his breath tickles the shell of his ear. Steve squirms, getting dangerously close to laughter. 

“You like that? Your big strong alpha holding you down?” 

What. 

Bucky makes the growling noise again, undulating his hips slightly, and Steve can’t take it anymore. He hiccups out a chuckle, and the floodgates open as Bucky stills above him. Steve shakes with laughter, barely noticing. The weight leaves his back, and hands braces on his shoulder.

“Are you ok?” Bucky says, and Steve allows himself to be flipped over. Bucky searching his face with worried eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve explains with a chuckle, “I just want to _physically_ swap around.” 

Bucky’s worry collapses into a full on frown, and Steve stamps down the rest of his mirth at the sudden tension in the room. The bed dips as Bucky roughly pushes off the bed, and runs a hand through his hair. A small twig that neither had noticed before dislodges itself. They watch it flutter to the ground in silence. 

Once it hits the carpet, Bucky doesn’t look away from the floor, “We should probably shower.” 

Steve smiles, sitting up to join him. 

“I’ll take first,” Bucky says shortly. Steve’s mouth tightens as he watches him enter the bathroom, and shut the door pointedly. Bucky is just as closed off after Steve finishes his shower. Bucky promised earlier to show him how to use the rice cooker, and he launches into the tutorial as soon as Steve has barely entered the kitchen space. 

Steve struggles to pay attention, staring instead at the subtle tightening in the corners of Bucky’s eyes. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and Steve curses himself for his foolishness. He should have known better than to share his deviancy. Bucky must look at him as some kind of degenerate, repulsed by Steve’s desires. 

Steve departs earlier than originally planned, blaming training exercises with the team as an excuse. Bucky doesn’t call him out on the obvious lie, and Steve leaves before the rice finishes. 

They don’t see each other in the time that follows. Steve has responsibilities to his team, and Bucky has his own life. He isn’t sure how truthful Bucky has been about being busy, but he’s too afraid to ask. Steve mourns the loss of their blossoming relationship, all because he couldn’t keep his trap shut. 

As they approach week three without much contact, Steve becomes desperate. He can change, he thinks, this is just a fluke. Natasha was probably pranking him, not remotely serious when she suggested he try it out. 

Now though, he doesn’t have much to lose. He plugs in the laptop resting on his desk. This had been a welcoming present from Tony, once they had made it through their catastrophic first meeting and began to know each other better. 

Once he’s sure the cords are connected to the electricity, he starts up the computer. The curtains are drawn, so figures it’s safe, and types in a pornsite he had found. The first page features a few videos he’s seen before, or ones he would never click on. There’s some he’s tried out, but hadn’t found appealing. They felt unnatural, with the mating so detached it had put him off. 

Instead, Steve found comfort in the videos marked as ‘amateur’. His eyes had bugged out of his head when he realized these were actual couples sharing their intimacy online. He clicks on one he’s watched before, and based on the comfort the couple have with one another, he figures they must be in a relationship. 

The alpha carries her omega lover over to the bed, and they explore one another. He gets a lotioned hand in his pants, because _this_ is what he should enjoy. And he does, stroking himself a few times. The spike of arousal gives him more confidence to continue his search. He scrolls downward, and clicks on a video under the related section. 

A few aimless clicks later, where he encounters no sound, poor lighting, and _very misleading_ titles, he finds a video that seems promising. He hesitates to start it up, knowing there’s no going back. But he’s never won a battle by being a coward, so he clicks on it and grips himself lightly. 

The video begins much like all the others, and it’s not apparent if they will actually switch positions, as the title says. A male alpha, a bit slimmer than Steve but just as tall, walks into frame and gets on the bed. An omega man is already laying down, and they begin to kiss passionately. Steve turns his wrist, stroking up as he watches them, paying close attention. 

Only a few more minutes pass before the alpha gets on his hands and knees. The omega settles behind him, the intention to mount clear. Steve’s eyes widen, and he mindlessly works his shaft faster.

Without much preamble, the omega slides home, and snaps his hips forward until he’s fully seated in his alpha partner. There are no complaints from either of them, and Steve wills himself to focus solely on the blissed out face of the omega. At a particularly loud moan from the alpha, curiosity wins out, and Steve watches where his cock bobs below his belly.

The tip has swelled, as if the alpha would pop a knot if he wasn’t on suppressants. _Wow._

Lost to arousal, Steve doesn’t even care anymore. He takes in the full picture, the omega panting atop his lover, hammering away without a care in the world and the alpha below him grunting and fisting the sheets. Steve imagines himself there, with his own pretty omega above him. _Taking what he wanted._

He abruptly orgasms, come splattering onto his shirt and dribbling down his length. A chilled bliss slides up his back as he comes down from the release, dropping his soiled hand on his thigh. The couple is still going at it, and Steve swallows. He normally doesn’t go off that quickly to porn, when he even bothers to look for it.

As the horniness abates, Steve remains curious. This couple enjoyed it. Maybe even _loved_ it. 

He scrolls down, eager to commiserate with others like him. 

**COMMENTS**

**Uh oh spaghettios**

_This better not awaken anything in me_

**DISGUSTANG**

_What tha fuk is this ew_

**RIP**

_Put an F in the chat for this alphas asshole_

**HORNY FOR DADDY**

_CLICK_ [ _HERE_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Computer_virus)

_FOR TITE OMEGA PUSSY_

_ONLY REAL!!_

_ALPHAS! CAN SATISFY ME_

**WTF???**

_Do people fap to this?????????????_

**Itspenisbuttercummytime**

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**Stop it get some help**

_They need to go to horny jail_

Steve catapults into self righteous fury. These bullies have no right to judge this couple. Bucky has no right to judge _him._ Anger chokes him as he cleans up and speeds through the crisp autumn breeze. The sun disappears under the horizon as he rides his motorcycle to Bucky’s apartment complex. 

He parks in the space available between a row of cars, and makes quick time getting to Bucky’s front door. He knocks loudly, and on the third knock the door flings open. He drops his arm, and Bucky stares at him with droopy eyes. He’s in pajama pants, a t-shirt, and his normally stylized hair is free of product. He gives Steve a tired smile. 

“Long time n-”

“I’m not ashamed,” Steve cuts him off, jaw tight. Bucky stares at him warily, nose wrinkling slightly as he breathes in the anger emanating off Steve. 

“Ok?” 

Bucky ushers him into the apartment with a wave of the hand. Steve walks in uncomfortably, waiting for the taunting, the jeering. It never comes. 

He follows Bucky into the kitchen, and watches him begin to make tea. A dense silence falls, the scents of anger, confusion, hurt, and concern circulating from them. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Bucky says softly. 

“ _No._ I wasn’t sleeping- I was-” Steve shakes his head, and repeats, “I’m not ashamed.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip.

“Steve, you aren’t making sense.” 

“I don’t belong in jail,” Steve starts, ignoring the rising confusion on Bucky’s face, “there’s nothing wrong with an alpha wanting to be mounted every now and again. It doesn’t make me sick. I don’t need _help_.”

“Ok? I never said you did.” 

Steve scoffs. 

“You didn’t have to say it. You made your point pretty clear. As soon as I told you the truth, you couldn’t wait to get away from me,” he huffs.

Bucky’s face twists into a scowl, and he crosses his arms. The mugs sit abandoned on the counter top.

“That had _nothing_ to do with what you like. God knows I have my share of kinks.”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but Bucky cuts him off; his scent sharpening in agitation. 

“I was trying to do something for you- for _us_ , and you just laughed in my face. I thought you were crying.”

“Oh.”

“Yea, ‘oh’,” Bucky snarks, eyes narrowed. 

The world drops from below Steve, and his mistake crushes him. He seems to always fail this way. He thinks about the times Clint or Tony have had to hold him to task. And his struggles with turning on his phone, missing a few calls from Bucky. And the numerous times he misunderstands the way things are now. Shame chokes him. 

“I keep doing everything all wrong don’t I?” Steve huffs out self deprecatingly. Even though he’s not completely sure how to make up for his mistake, he says, “I’ll do better.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, catching Steve from where he’s falling into self flagellation, with a gentle grasp of his hand, “you’re doing great. No one’s perfect right?”

Steve’s chest loosens, and he nods in relief. The grip on his hand abruptly tightens hard enough that it borders on painful, blunt nails digging into his skin. He flinches, and looks at Bucky in question. The glare he’s met with makes his blood run cold.

“But if you ever come at me like that again, like some knothead raring for a fight, we’re done. If you’re mad at me, we talk about it. No excuses.”

Steve thinks about how it must have looked to Bucky, a large _enhanced_ alpha standing over him, fists clenched, smelling of anger, and maybe even aggression. He winces. 

“I didn’t mea-“

“I’m serious Steve. Leave that shit on the field.” 

Steve swallows, “Got it.”

Bucky lets his hand go, and the tension in the room leaves with it. 

Steve leans forward, intoxicated by their mellowed scents. He brings up a hand to cradle Bucky’s jaw, and leans in, eyes fluttering closed. His hand comes up empty, and he opens his eyes to see Bucky standing a few steps away from him. 

“I don’t want to kiss you right now,” Bucky snaps, frown set in place, “Got a problem with that?” 

“Of course not!” Steve rushes to say, “I would _never-”_

“Just checking,” Bucky says shortly. Steve nods, waving a hand awkwardly in goodbye as he goes to leave. He might have been given a second chance, but that doesn’t mean Bucky wants him around.

“It’s late. We might as well get some sleep,” Bucky says. 

Steve turns around, hopeful. Bucky’s already making his way to his bedroom, yawning into his fist. Steve follows eagerly. 

After he’s dressed down to his boxers, he makes sure to leave substantial space between them. The bed doesn’t smell like him at all, and Steve desperately tries to resist rubbing his scent into the sheets. Bucky huffs out a laugh.

“You missed a spot over here,” he says. Steve grins, taking the invitation for what it is. He slides over carefully, until they’re close enough to embrace, Bucky’s head tucked under his chin. 

Sleep comes easy. 

***

They decide to schedule their second try. Bucky reasoned that knowing ahead of time would make them better prepared, and make the most of the experience. Bucky grinned when he showed Steve how to program the date into his phone, titling it _Topsy Turvy_. Steve grinned back.

With that, Bucky assigned him a task to start fingering himself. Steve had stared at him dumbly, wondering why he didn’t think to try that before. The first time, he shoves two fingers in, using shower water as lubrication. Lesson learned, he starts with one finger the next time, and uses Vaseline. 

As time passes, the excitement turns into apprehension, and now with less than a week left, he’s veering into dread. 

What if he hated it? 

What if Bucky hated it?

Bucky may look at him differently, mock him for liking it, and their relationship would never be the same. Or maybe Bucky would like it, and he didn’t, and they’d never find pleasure in each other again.

Steve sits on his bed, staring at the calendar on his phone. Tomorrow’s the day. 

Steve taps around until he pulls up the contacts button. He could press the **Bucky** button, call the whole thing off, and the tightness in his stomach and shoulders will loosen. His right thumb hovers over the omega’s name. 

But..

He wants to try. 

Steve allows the screen to dim, then go black. He gently places his phone on his bedside table, and abandons sleep. 

Steve stands from the bed and starts roaming around his SHIELD provided apartment. His scent is only just starting to cling to the furnishings, having only moved from base a bit over a week ago. 

He paces, brushing against each surface as he walks past. He scent-marks the sofa, the side tables, the television he’s never used, and leaves the living room. The kitchen smells a bit more like him, because he sometimes sketches at the table, but he decides to scent mark the counters, the table, and the refrigerator anyway. 

The panic seeps back in once he’s done and he fumbles through the supplies he bought. He uses an enema, which he thinks he may have done incorrectly, if the stomach cramps are any indication. 

He also pulls out the waxing strips he bought, and goes to town. He’s no stranger to pain, but ripping up hair, and what feels like a layer of skin, when he’s not hopped up on adrenaline is excruciating. He’s glad when he finishes, and sits back on the bed, mindful of his flaming ass. 

He grabs the cellphone again. After all that work, Steve can’t imagine cancelling now. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be some other interruption, perhaps in the form of a last minute mission.

He runs through the list of teammates he can ask, to make sure duty isn’t calling. Tony is an instant no. Steve has no issues with him, especially as they've gotten to know each other better, but everything the omega says is mildly confusing. Tony will likely ignore the call anyway. Thor is still off-world, and Banner is still in the wind. He’s hesitant to call Natasha, as she may reveal that it was a prank all along. 

Clint it is. 

It takes him a moment to find **Clint Barton** in his contacts list, and he presses it, waiting as the phone rings.

As soon as the line picks up, a long keening whine comes from the other side. Steve is instantly on his feet, concerned and mission ready, “Hawkeye, where-“

Steve is cut off with a more coherent whine, “My pizza just came. I’m sure the mission can wait 10 minutes,” he pauses, and entreats, “we can make it 5.” 

Then he can hear Clint proceed to scarf down said pizza, in a way that sounds downright dangerous. 

Steve clears his throat, “A mission hasn’t come to my attention.”

He pauses there, because he can’t say _but I was hoping there was one_ without sounding like the heel he is. Clint exhales loudly in relief, and the lip smacking thankfully stops. 

“Best words I’ve heard all day,” he crows, tone much more lighthearted than before. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Steve says, and pulls the phone away from his ear to hang up.

Clint doesn’t try to call him back, much to Steve’s relief. He changes into workout clothes, and runs for a couple miles, until he starts to feel fatigued. When he returns, he manages to drift off for a couple hours. 

That morning, Bucky answers the door in simple clothes, house pants and a Henley with the top two buttons undone. 

Fine brown hair peeks through the opening, and Steve feels silly about all the waxing he had done. 

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, and takes a subtle whiff of Steve scent. He doesn’t comment on what he finds. 

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks, biting his lip. 

“No, I,” _want to get this over with._

Steve winces, because that’s not entirely true. He desperately needs to know if this will work and if they will both enjoy themselves. 

Bucky smiles at him, “Wanna go lay down?” 

“Sure.”

They walk in silence, Steve awkwardly following behind. Once in the bedroom, Bucky climbs onto the bed, fully dressed. 

He pats the space beside him, and the gesture uproots Steve from the doorway. 

When Steve lays on the bed, his nerves fade, just a little, when he smells their combined scents clinging to the bed. 

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, “I’m nervous too.”

He doesn’t seem like it, but Steve nods in appreciation, stamping down his embarrassment. Bucky leans forward, and kisses him. Steve reciprocates, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s slim waist until they’re chest to chest, Bucky’s lower half still perched on the bed. 

He brings an arm up, resting his hand against the back of Bucky’s head, and the short chestnut hair is soft to the touch. 

His mouth is licked open with Bucky’s exploratory tongue, and the scent of arousal starts to swirl in the room. He clearly wants to take it slow, and Steve is more than willing, and thankful, to go at his pace. 

Bucky brings their hips together, grinding against Steve’s thigh. 

He’s hard, Steve notes in relief. They settle into the embrace for a long moment, kissing as Bucky undulates against Steve’s leg. As the roll of his hips quicken, Bucky noticeably forces himself to sit up and pull his shirt over his head.

Steve does the same, and knee walks into Bucky’s space. He leans forward to suck on the exposed swollen scent glands. The omega bares his neck with a moan, reaching between them to unbutton Steve’s pants. 

Bucky pulls down his zipper, getting a hand on the head of Steve’s swollen cock. Steve’s hips spasm underneath the touch and he exhales onto the ridges of skin under his mouth. Bucky sharply inhales, and rubs their erections against together. He doesn’t have a zipper, and Steve tucks a finger under the waistband to yank it down. 

They break apart, and undress completely. Bucky plucks the jeans out of Steve’s hands and flings the material, along with his own sweatpants, off the bed. Bucky gently pushes him onto his back, in complete contrast to how he attacks Steve’s mouth with his own. Bucky angles their hips to slide his cock against Steve’s length. Steve grunts, and rolls his hips upward. 

“You’re so sexy,” Bucky says, reaching between them to stroke their shafts. His hand gets more exploratory, drifting to Steve’s inner thigh. 

“Wait,” Steve rasps. Bucky’s hand stills immediately, and he sits up with a searching look. The icy blue color of his eyes are thinly wrapped around the black of his blown out pupils, and his face is flush with arousal. 

“I wanna suck you,” Steve clarifies, blushing slightly. He gets a salacious grin in return. They rearrange themselves, Bucky close to the edge of the bed and Steve perched between his thighs. Steve breathes out once, and grabs the shaft to steady it. He’s only done this a few times, but Bucky has taught him a little bit about this. He starts at the tip, pushing his tongue against the skin. 

Steve strokes the length, gaining confidence with each of Bucky’s grunts of approval. He mimics how he’s licked and sucked on Bucky’s scent glands before, but adjusts for size. 

He wraps his lips wrapped around the head, and pushes forward to ease more of Bucky’s cock into his mouth. A hand cards against through his hair, and he takes it as encouragement. He slides his lips further down the length, then pulls back up, hallowing his cheeks to drag against Bucky’s cock. 

“Alpha,” Bucky breathes, head thrown back, “My alpha.” 

Steve chokes the base of his throbbing dick with a tight grip, fire pooling in his stomach at Bucky’s proclamation. 

“I’m close,” Bucky gasps, pushing against Steve’s shoulders until he eases off. 

Steve climbs up the bed, guiding them until Bucky is under him. He growls softly, and kisses Bucky swollen red lips again. Head cloudy with arousal, he slides his length against Bucky’s before veering a bit lower. 

“Did you want to switch gears? Your call,” Bucky says, chest heaving slightly. Steve snaps out of his haze, and realizes what he’s doing. He rolls them gently, reversing their position. 

“Habit,” Steve says apologetically. Bucky tsks playfully, and sits up. He grabs a pillow, and teasingly pushes against Steve’s hip insistently. 

Steve lifts his hips agreeably, and Bucky shoves the pillow underneath.

He perches between Steve’s legs, and grins, “Did you do your homework?” 

Steve flushes red, cock softening slightly as the apprehension starts to slink back in, “Yea.” 

“How did it go?” Bucky asks, hand suddenly patting under the pillow by the bed frame. 

“It was good.. Great,” Steve says distractedly, eyes on the tube of lubrication Bucky pulls from underneath the pillow. Steve’s heartbeat speeds up as he watches Bucky squirt a generous amount of lube onto his index finger, and strokes the digit until it’s fully covered. 

He lifts his hand, and wiggles his fingers, “Ready?”

Steve huffs out a laugh, the humor relaxing him as it was probably intended. 

He flinches slightly when he feels the finger poke around his ass cheeks, but settles quickly. The pillow beneath his hips is soft, and he focuses on the sensation for a moment to center himself. The slick tip brushes around his hole, before the digit pushes through the tight ring of muscle. 

Steve’s breath hitches. 

Bucky snaps his head up, stills his finger. Steve nods at him, pausing before he spreads his legs a bit more.

“You don’t have as many sweet spots as an omega, but..” Bucky curls his finger. 

Steve’s hips spasm, electricity spiking low in his belly and up his spine. Bucky smirks, using his other hand to press against Steve’s inner thigh. With the steady weight, Steve’s hips are met with more resistance as he tries to grind upward. He’s at Bucky’s mercy as the omega slathers lube onto his index and middle finger until they’re sopping wet. Bucky pushes both fingers in, and pulls them out a few times, then parts the fingers while inside Steve. The rubbing stretches Steve open, and his mouth goes slack in pleasure.

“Come on Buck, I’m ready,” he pants.

Bucky shakes his head, “Just one more.” 

Steve can see why, as the third finger joins the other two, the stretch is something he never encountered with his own fingers. It doesn’t hurt, not by a long shot, but it is a bit uncomfortable. Bucky must see it on his face because he pauses, fingers stilling inside of him.

“Keep going,” Steve says. Bucky crawls upward until he can capture Steve’s lips, pushing his fingers in and out as he does so. Steve groans into the kiss, cock hard enough to drive nails.

“Come on,” Steve says when they break away, urgency in his voice. He’s hungry for it, to feel his omega inside him. This time Bucky listens, sitting up and pulling out his fingers completely. Bucky coats himself in lube, and presses a thumb against his shaft to angle his cock in front of Steve’s entrance. 

Steve’s heart hammers out of his chest as the blunt head brushes against his rim. It presses forward, and the head pops through his entrance. Though Bucky took his time prepping Steve, there’s a bit of resistance when he slides in the rest of the length. The omega slowly pushes forward until he bottoms out. He curses out a groan, and Steve takes in the gorgeous sight above him. His eyes wander over the blissed out expression on Bucky’s flushed face, and glances down at where he’s buried inside of him. Steve files the memory away. Right now, he needs Bucky to move, so pushes his ass downward invitingly. 

Bucky falls forward with a grunt, palms pressed against the bed on either side of Steve’s chest to stabilize himself. 

“There’s a thing that you do that drives me nuts,” Steve says, then bares down, clenching around Bucky’s length.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky hisses, hips stuttering forward. He leans upward, trying to find the best angle to move inside Steve, and the action turns the head of his cock slightly. He’s unsuccessful in moving in and out, and after a few more tries, Bucky stops, staring at Steve incredulously. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” there’s a hint of mirth in his voice, eyes sparkling. 

“You just gotta,” Steve makes a vague motion with his hands, then stops at Bucky’s smirk. He knows that wasn’t particularly helpful. The amused look on Bucky’s face fades, and there’s apprehension for the first time since they started. Steve feels his own anxiety spike, and breathes in the starchy scent emanating off of Bucky to confirm he’s still interested. 

Bucky opens his mouth, then closes it. Steve looks at him encouragingly, willing himself to remain calm.

After a moment, Bucky suggests tentatively, “It may be easier if you turn around.”

Steve’s mouth goes dry, suddenly well aware why Bucky would be so anxious. What he’s asking, well, it sounds an awful lot like presenting. And nothing for an alpha to do, it was 

_wrong,_

_went against nature,_

but the thought, the image in his head, felt right. The tantalizing possibility was

 _mind numbingly arousing_. 

Steve nods once, and Bucky backs away with a sweet smile. He leaves enough room for Steve to turn over, and rise to his hands and knees. 

Steve trembles slightly, the feeling of control dwindling by the moment. He can’t see Bucky, but he can feel the weight of him dipping the bed, the scent of his arousal, and the sound of more lubricant being stroked onto his length. 

Bucky pushes forward, and Steve can feel a hand on his cheeks where Bucky steadies himself at the base and slides in.

“Fuck,” Bucky says. Steve agrees, shoulders relaxing with each drag of the length. He feels hands splay along his back, lightly scratching down from his lower back, to his shoulders. The fingers trace against his hips, into the middle of his back, and back down toward his shoulders. He doesn’t realize until Bucky starts moving inside him again, that the omega had been pushing onto his back. 

The gentle ministrations eased his back into an arch, shoulders pressed against the bedspread and ass in the air. Being brought open leaves him feeling shy, and Steve resists the urge to hide himself, wondering how he must look to Bucky.

He’s been brought to his knees before; glaring up at the ugly face of Red Skull, or hit in the gut and winded, but he never felt this vulnerable. He marvels at the easy way Bucky’s done this for him, and swallows his fears. 

Bucky grunts, speeding up slightly and gripping Steve’s hips.

“Since you said it, this is all I could think about when I touched myself. Fantasizing about fucking your gorgeous ass,” Bucky says breathlessly, catching his rhythm. 

Steve pushes backward in response, rumbling low in his throat. Bucky whines, answering his call with a rasped purr, and snaps his hips forward. Steve rumbling turns into a groan as Bucky drags the head of his cock against a sensitive patch of nerves. 

“You’re so tight, Jesus Christ,” Bucky grits out.

Steve turns red, but the approval shoots straight to his cock. Bucky’s hips slap against his ass as the thrusts grow faster. The bed creaks underneath them, and Steve unconsciously arches his back further. 

Bucky sinks in deeper, and brutally thrusts inside, “God yes, open for me. Fuck.”

“Jesus,” Steve blasphemes, fisting at the covers as Bucky pounds into him. A hand comes down on his ass, and he moans at the sting of it. Bucky slows his thrusts, yelping as if he’s the one that got slapped. Steve instantly protests, pushing his ass against him. After a quiet moment, Bucky works back up to his rough pace, and spanks him again.

Steve is close, and almost cries out when Bucky reaches between them to grip his bobbing cock.

He doesn’t stroke, allowing the forces of each thrust to glide his hand over Steve’s hardness. Bucky squeezes the tip, where his knot is concealed, before opening the grip more as each snap of his hips pulls his hand down the length.

“Mm, you like it when your omega takes care of you?” 

Steve whites out as he comes over Bucky’s fist, the sheets, and part of his stomach. He pants through it, mouthing at the covers as Bucky slams into brutally before he’s coming too. 

Warmth spills into him, and Steve’s cock throbs as the sensation milks him through another orgasm. A few more shallow thrusts, and Bucky stops spasming inside him. 

The room fills with the sound of their attempts to catch their breath. Bucky is the first one to move, sliding out and collapsing beside Steve. The loss of something inside of him is jarring, and Steve rolls over to lay on his side. His ass is raw and wet, and he can feel Bucky’s cum dribble out. He smiles faintly. 

As they lay side by side, Bucky looks at him tiredly, eyes half lidded. Steve kisses him, filled with thankfulness and adoration. 

Bucky smiles drowsily, “Great idea from The Man with a Plan.”

Steve grins, and braces his cheek on his palm. 

He stares at where Bucky’s eyes are fluttering, clearly on his way asleep.

“Ok, what about you?” Steve says.

“Mmmprh?” The omega says, his eyes fluttering.

“You mentioned a few kinks. Your turn,” Steve says. Bucky eyes open further, mouth parting in surprise. His brow furrows in careful thought, before he smirks challengingly. 

“Ever heard of bdsm?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
